


The Chemical Property of Gold

by polishmyarmor



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-04
Updated: 2010-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polishmyarmor/pseuds/polishmyarmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merlin and Arthur pan for gold, Cenred is Southern, and Morgause and Morgana are scarlet women.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chemical Property of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Written in a feverish attempt to avoid reality (isn't all fic?) for furloughday.

The Chemical Property of Gold

 

Merlin shivered under his blanket and opened his eyes. The pale blue light of dawn broke through the hangings of his tent and he groaned, sitting up. Tightening his red neckerchief around his neck and pulling his overalls over his long johns, Merlin stumbled out of his small tent and went to rouse Arthur. The fastenings on Arthur’s tent, which helped keep out the cold, always took a while for Merlin to undo early in the morning. By the time he’d finished, Arthur was awake.   
“Wusfurbrekas, Merl?” Arthur mumbled.  
“Beans, sir,” Merlin replied with something of a grimace. They’d been eating beans for breakfast for the last two weeks.  
“Death first—can’t you find an egg? What do I pay you for?” Annoyance worked as well as coffee for getting Arthur out of bed.   
“I told you, if we stayed in town we could have eggs every morning.”  
“Ah, but then we wouldn’t be the first to the river,” Arthur replied, eyes gleaming, “and we’re here for gold, not breakfast.”   
As he spoke, he unceremoniously smacked Merlin upside the head and went to warm his gloved hands by the embers of last night’s fire. Merlin moved to put some more logs on the fire and began to work at opening the can of beans. Really, he was just sort of stabbing at it when Arthur snatched it out of his hands and quickly wrenched the lid off.  
“I was getting there,” Merlin grumbled.  
“And if I had all morning to wait for you to finish, that would be fine. Do we have any more pork?”  
“A bit—we’ll need to buy some today, perhaps Gwen will come around again.” Gwen worked at the local grocer’s and would sometimes bring goods to sell to the men by the river. All the lads by the river had an eye for her, but her eyes shone brightest when they looked upon Arthur. It was a pity he never noticed.  
“Ah, great, perhaps she’ll bring pie, as well.” Arthur loved pie.  
“Yes,” Merlin replied, with a barely disguised eye roll.

When breakfast was finished, Arthur rubbed his stubbled chin, stretched his arms, and grabbed his pan. Merlin tossed their spoons and tins into the washbasin for later, grabbed his pan, and hurried off after Arthur.

After an hour or so of kneeling by the river, Arthur finally noticed that there was a new man in their territory.   
“Who’s that man?” Arthur called to Merlin, who was ten feet down the river from him.  
“Who, Lee?” Merlin shouted back.  
“Not Lee, I know Lee!”  
“You want something, Arthur?”   
“No, not you, Lee!” Arthur turned from Lee back to Merlin and bellowed “The man practically in our spot, downriver from you, idiot!”  
Arthur skillfully chucked a pebble at Merlin, who turned and said, “I’ll just find out who he is, then, shall I?”   
With a sardonic bow, Merlin dropped his pan by the shore and went to talk to the swarthy brunette kneeling twenty feet away.

As Merlin approached, the man squinted up at Merlin, his tan face revealing his displeasure. With a self-conscious shrug, Merlin held out his hand and said, “I’m Merlin—I work just upstream.”  
“Saw ya earlier; whadja wan’?”  
“Just to, uh,” Merlin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, “introduce myself, let you know where we usually work… just around here.”   
He tried to make this statement sound as non-threatening as possible, but with his hand still outstretched, he was getting the feeling that this man was not accustomed to observing the niceties.  
“Cenred,” the man stated gruffly, turning back to his pan and shovel.  
“Cendred? Nice to meet you.” Merlin let out a puff of air in relief, and dropped his hand to his side.  
“Cenred, you idjit, and I’ll be workin’ where I please.”  
“Huh, good luck with that.”  
“Wha’dju say to me, boy?”  
“Just, by boss, Arthur, just there,” Merlin pointed, “he’s pretty good at making sure that his spot stays his.”  
Cenred let out a short, loud guffaw. “We’ll see about that.”  
With that, he turned his back to Merlin. Understanding that their conversation was over, Merlin trudged back to his pan, where Arthur was waiting, a quizzical expression in his eyes.  
“You made him laugh,” he said, almost accusingly.  
“Well, I’m a riot, what can I say,” Merlin squirmed with the knowledge that he’d failed to intimidate the newcomer.  
“Sure, Merlin, sure.” There was a pause. “So, what did he say?”  
“Just that he would work where he liked…and that his name is Cenred.”  
“What a ridiculous name!” Arthur’s face broke into an impish grin.  
“I know!” Merlin replied.  
“Well, he certainly won’t be getting our spots—we’ll have lunch here today.”  
Merlin sighed, knowing that he would have to make several trips back and forth to the camp before Arthur would be satisfied with their meal.

When the sun was high in the sky and Merlin was beginning to dread his trek back to camp, he heard Lee cry out, “Gwen! Let me help!”  
Lee had dropped his pan on the bank and rushed forward to help Gwen carry the large basket of goods she’d brought from her father’s shop.   
“Gwen, you’re a saint—you’re just in time,” Merlin said, moving towards Gwen to buy Arthur’s lunch.  
“Glad to be of service,” Gwen blushed and pushed a loose curl behind her ear.  
“Listen, you wouldn’t happen to have any pie, would you?”   
“I do indeed! What else would you like?”   
As Lee paid for his cheese, Merlin rummaged in her basket, pulling out food enough for several meals.  
“PIE, Merlin, don’t forget my pie!” Arthur bellowed, still bent over the river, pan in hand.  
Merlin grinned sheepishly at Gwen, who gently balanced a plated piece of pie on top of the already wobbling pile of food that Merlin was holding. She added the cost to their tab (Arthur would pay it at the end of the week), and Merlin turned back towards Arthur. As Merlin placed their feast before Arthur, the pile collapsed, and the pie fell into the muck of the bank. Arthur glared at Merlin, picked up a handful of muddy pie, and dropped it on top of Merlin’s head. Merlin sighed and dunked his head in the river, making sure to shake out his hair next to Arthur. They looked at each other affectionately; they ate.

That evening, after Arthur had carefully stored the small nuggets they’d found, they settled down by the fire, worn out and ready for a good meal. As Merlin heated the food leftover from lunch, Arthur took out his knife and began polishing it ostentatiously. That knife had kept other prospectors away for the last two months, and Arthur knew how to subtly remind the men around their camp of that fact.   
As they began to eat, the ladies from Lefay’s began to wander amongst the campers. Women of easy virtue, they earned more in a night than the prospector’s did in a day. Arthur and Merlin watched them make their rounds to their usual customers, sitting and chatting while the sun began to color the sky a fiery red. Their real work wouldn’t begin until nightfall—now they were just setting up their customers. Morgana and Morgause sauntered past Arthur and Merlin arm in arm, deep in conversation. They paused only to smirk at the men, well aware that they would find no business here. Their eyes glinted as they caught sight of Cenred across the camp—new prospectors were always easy prey.   
Walking over to his tent, they whispered furiously, forming a plan. Morgana pulled back and continued to strut around the campsite while Morgause flirted her way next to Cenred and his fire. As they spoke, Morgause’s blonde head next to Cenred’s brown, they occasionally cast glances over to Arthur, who remained oblivious to their attentions. Merlin noticed, and tucked the information away, reminding himself to watch the two of them to see if anything untoward (or more untoward than usual) developed. Arthur sat and rubbed his stubble.  
Morgana made her way back towards their camp. “I can give a straight-razor shave better than most barbers, if you’d like,” she offered.  
“That’d be great, but how much?”   
“Consider it a favor,” she replied.  
Arthur grabbed his shaving kit from his tent while Merlin was left to wonder what, exactly, Morgana was up to.   
“You’re awfully nice for a…well…you know. I always assumed you lot were all just girls with daddy issues.” Arthur proclaimed as he returned.  
“Not…all of us,” Morgana drawled, picking up his razor and glancing over at Cenred’s tent, where he and Morgause were already inside.  
“Well then, shall we?” Morgana nodded in response to Arthur’s question and brought the razor to his prominent jaw. As she began to shave him, Merlin sat, hands clenched into fists. He was worried, but he had no legitimate reason to be. Arthur closed his eyes, completely relaxed.  
“All done,” Morgana announced a few minutes later.  
Arthur opened his eyes and massaged his chin. “This is great, thank you!” Then he caught sight of Merlin. “Have you just been sitting here this whole time! There are dishes to do, and the fire needs more logs if it’s going to last the night. Do I need to tell you everything?”  
Merlin sighed and went to go and fetch some more firewood as Morgana wished them good night and made her way to lurk near Cenred’s tent.

The next morning, red neckerchief still firmly fastened around his neck, Merlin woke Arthur to a breakfast of pork and buttered toast. As they ate, they looked out at the camp. Leon was making coffee next door, Lee was lacing his boots, and Cenred was…not alone. It appeared Morgause had stayed the night, and as she left, the two seemed to exchange significant glances after looking in Arthur’s direction. Merlin noticed their looks, but said nothing. No need to worry Arthur over nothing. The knife should be enough to keep any smart person away, he thought to himself; unfortunately, he didn’t really believe it.   
Grabbing their pans, Merlin and Arthur walked to the river, one worried, one full and content. Today, Cenred had moved several feet closer to where Merlin was panning. Merlin glanced over at him, but Cenred merely shrugged smugly and continued his work. Merlin looked at Arthur, but he was busy shoveling dirt into his pan from the riverbed.

That evening, Merlin told Arthur that Cenred was starting to move in on their land. Arthur went to talk to Leon and Lee before dinner, making sure that the two of them would support Arthur if he needed to drive Cenred back. After their agreement, Arthur dined merrily, smiling as the Lefay ladies arrived. Once again Morgause went to Cenred, and once again Morgana came to sit with Arthur and Merlin (although she largely ignored Merlin).

This pattern continued over the next week, until one day, Arthur’s gold disappeared. Arthur discovered it was missing and quickly brought Leon and Lee to his tent.  
“I think Cenred has taken my gold. It’s time he left, and it’s time we made him.” Arthur looked meaningfully at Leon and Lee, who both nodded in solemn agreement.   
The men weren’t going to the river today. Instead, they surrounded Cenred’s tent, waiting for him to rise. They did not have to wait long. Cenred walked out of his tent and stopped short. His hand immediately went to the knife he kept on his belt. “What d’you lot want?” he demanded.  
“You gone.”  
“Why’s that, exactly?”  
“You know why,” Arthur replied, his voice cold steel.  
“Yer as much of an idjit as yer man, there,” Cenred replied, gesturing to Merlin, who stood behind Leon, “I got no idea what you’re goin’ on about.”  
“My gold. It’s missing, you took it, you’re giving it back now.”  
Merlin stepped back from the circle—he could have sworn that he saw a blur of blonde hair between the trees around their camp. Just as he was about to find out, a shout went up from the circle.  
“Aagh!” Cenred had punched Lee, who fell backwards, just missing the fire.   
“Yer crazy! I never stole in my life!”  
“You’ve been taking our spot on the river—moving up and up each day!” Merlin accused.  
“Wuh…yuh, alright, sure, but not gold.”  
“It’s the same thing—you know how successful we’ve been in this part of the river—any day now we’ll find a vein, and you’re trying to take that,” Arthur had his knife out as he spoke, holding it firmly in his hand.  
“Look…I…” as Cenred fumbled for words, a shrill whistle came from the river, and he smiled. “I’ll jus’ be going,” he grinned, holding his hands up and making for the river.  
The men gave chase, and as they came to the river, they saw all of Lefay’s ladies, lined up along the river, shovels held menacingly across their chests.   
“I brought ‘em here, jus’ like y’asked.” Cenred informed Morgause and Morgana, who were standing at the center of the line of fearsome women.  
“You did well,” Morgause replied, “give him his reward, sister.”  
With that, Morgana pulled Arthur’s gold from her pocket, handing it to Cenred with a smirk.   
“You!” Arthur shouted, stunned.  
“Me,” Morgana replied.   
“Y’see, Morgause, Morgana and I are gon’ take over this part of the river—the most profitable part around. We’re gon’ work it together, an’ when we find that vein, we’ll be rich beyon’ imaginin’,” Cenred said proudly. “See, smarter’n you lot, workin’ alone, I’m smarter’n you by lots, standin’ there, confused…it’s hilarious!”   
With that, Cenred gave out another hearty chuckle, completely ignorant of the sour expressions on Morgause and Morgana’s faces.   
“You’re smart?” Morgause asked menacingly.  
“Course I am,” Cenred replied.  
“No,” Morgana replied, as Morgause grabbed rope from Nimueh, another of Lefay’s ladies. “This is smart.”  
And with just a few motions, Morgana took the gold from Cenred as Morgause bound his arms. Together the sisters shoved him in the river.  
“You’ll be leaving,” Morgause told the men from the camp, who had stood watching, open-mouthed, as all of this occurred.  
“We will not,” Arthur replied, mulishly.   
“You will,” and with that, Morgause gestured to the ladies, who assumed a fighting position, points of their shovels ready to strike.   
The men, realizing they were outnumbered, and hesitant to strike a woman, beat a hasty retreat to the woods around their camp.   
“We’ll be back,” Arthur panted as he ran, “we’ll be back!”


End file.
